


Dancing Around Each Other

by Undefined20Something



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assumed background Johnlock, Caring Mycroft Holmes, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Please excuse any Americanisms in the writing - I tried, Tumblr made me do it, mild pining, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undefined20Something/pseuds/Undefined20Something
Summary: “Who did this to you?” The words were whispered in a quiet almost threatening manner, his anger was barely restrained. It filled Greg with immense hope. They had been dancing around each other long enough, perhaps now things might be acknowledged and acted on.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 6
Kudos: 144





	Dancing Around Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written in the Sherlock fandom, and honestly I thought my first fic would be a Johnlock one, but then my friend had to go and recommend a fic by Mottlemoth and all of a sudden I was Mystrade shipper.
> 
> This whole fic was prompted by seeing this post on tumblr - https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/618023253665103872/sushinfood-tuvs00-thewritinggodmother
> 
> All mistakes are mine as I am too impatient to post

He could feel the blood as it slowly dripped out of his nose and over his lips. Hot, sticky, never something he wanted to experience again. He had thought his fisticuff days were behind him, but given his position he should have figured that this would happen eventually. Especially when he lets Sherlock into his crime scenes. That man could never stop the thought going from his brain straight out of his mouth. Absolutely no filter that one.

Lestrade tipped his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as he gently pressed a wade of tissues to his nose. The nurse had taken one look at it and said it wasn’t broken, thank the lord for that. But her and the doctor had more pressing things to take care of. Sherlock. The bloody fool. He taken one look that the witness Donovan was interviewing at the crime scene, made a pithy yet accurate comment of “Just look at his upturn collar and left index finger, he’s obviously the killer!” and that set-in motion the dreadful events that followed.

They were at St Bart’s now as it was the closest hospital and Sherlock needed treating right away. The damn witness, killer, suspect had a knife stashed in his pocket that nobody had noticed. Though, he wearily thought, Sherlock no doubt was able to deduce that from his haircut or something. But he didn’t foresee the killer trying to stab him as a distraction to get away. John launched himself towards Sherlock to catch him in his fall, while Greg launched towards for the witness-killer-suspect to keep him from escaping. In the scuffle he had managed to elbow Greg’s nose, thankfully without the force to break it. But Sherlock was now in surgery to stop the internal damage. He had made sure to slam the suspect into the ground extra hard as he took him down, just for hurting his friend.

He could hear the quiet shuffle of someone walking towards him but he assumed it was only a nurse. He startled as he felt a set of hands come up around the sides of his neck, softly tipping his face forward.

“ _Who did this to you_?” The words were whispered in a quiet almost threatening manner, his anger was barely restrained. It filled Greg with immense hope. They had been dancing around each other long enough, perhaps now things might be acknowledged and acted on.

Moving his hand away from his nose he looked at the man in front of him. Pale with ginger hair and a well-tailored suit, he looked unassuming yet Greg knew that behind those inquisitive eyes lay a brain even smarter than Sherlocks. And a power that was unquestionable. He could make one phone call and change the course of anything, everything, at any time, for any reason.

“You know I can’t tell you; this is an on-going investigation.” Greg sighed out as one of Mycroft’s hand moved from his neck to his face, lightly wiping away the little bit of blood on his top lip with his monogrammed handkerchief. Greg’s breath stuttered, heart pounding. Mycroft continued roaming his hands down to his shoulders, gently moving to Greg’s arms, opening his jacket, as if looking for additional injuries. “I’m fine, I promise. Just the bloody nose. Your brother however…”

“Yes.” Mycroft took a reluctant step back and leaned against the wall opposite him in the narrow corridor. “I have just spoken with his doctor. He is out of surgery and in recovery. Dr. Watson is with him now.”

“And?”

“He will be fine. A short stay in hospital and recovery at home.”

He sighed. Thank god. If he had died, the paperwork would have been endless. Not like he didn’t care about Sherlock, of course he did, but he was already skirting a fine line by having him at a crime scene in the first place. “Sargent Donovan had the suspect transported from the scene. Not much to tie up now on that front but I have to head back to the station and commence on the incident reports.”

Mycroft tutted. “You will do no such thing.”

“What?” His heart was picking up tempo. Was this finally happening?

“I have taken the liberty to order a car, it will be taking us back to mine where you will get washed up. I will have dinner ordered in, you will eat and then you will rest. Today’s events will hold until tomorrow.”

“Back to yours now eh?”

“Yes Inspector. You cannot interview Sherlock about this incident until tomorrow and as it is half pass 8, it is time for you to eat and rest.”

Greg laughed, even though doing so made his nose hurt uncomfortably. “Do you think, Mycroft, that if you are going to just demand and do and abduct me back to yours, you could finally call me by my name instead of every variation there is of my work title?”

Mycroft was obviously fighting back a small smile, eyes alive with the cheek of it all. “Gregory.”

“Yes?” Greg stepped forward into Mycroft’s personal space. He smelled faintly of pipe smoke.

“You infuriating man. Come with me, let me see to your needs and take care of you. ALL will wait for your return.” His words whispered over Greg’s face as he smiled at him. Took long enough.

“Was that so hard?” He slowly reached forward and tangled his hand with Mycroft’s, giving him plenty enough notice to withdrawal if need be.

“Immeasurably.” He grumbled. Greg had to laugh a little again. His posh boy was so strait laced that public displays of affection were no doubt difficult for him, even if it was just vanilla words and a mildly demanding request. He couldn't wait to find out more about him. All the little things that made him tick.

“Come on.” Greg said as he gave a little tug to get Mycroft moving down the hallway towards the exit. “Let’s not dance around this any longer. Take me back to yours, do whatever you will and let’s see where this goes finally.”

This time Mycroft did actually smile, “Whatever I will is a very broad commitment that you are agreeing to inspector.”

“Yes, and I look forward to every second of it.” 


End file.
